Coming Out Of The Broom Closet
by the Last Flowerchild
Summary: After stealing from Professor Umbrige, Fred and George are forced into hiding in a broom closet, and things take an unexpected turn. Warning: Mild slash. Review please.


Coming Out Of The Broom Closet  
Warnings: Slash--moderate. What happens in the broom closet says in  
the broom closet

My Unfortunate Disclaimer: In my mind I _do _in fact own these characters, the world, the moon, the second star to the right, and the Beatles, but sadly in real life I do not...I just own the world.

And for the record I do know that Fred and George Weasley are brothers, so don't bother mentioning it. No Harry Potter character is safe from my slash! MUAHAHAHA—erm...read and enjoy. Review please.  
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The reason that Fred and his twin brother George had ended up cramped in the broom closet was quite odd; thinking back, Fred really couldn't remember the reason at all actually. He knew that it had something to do with a prank, of that much Fred was sure, but of how he and George had both ended up there, he had no earthly clue.

Oh yes! Now he remembered! They had stolen something very important from Umbrige's office, and when she found out she'd surely expel them, and Fred and George Weasley had their own plans when it came to leaving school. They would not be kicked out, because both twins wanted to go with a bang. So, Fred supposed, they had ultimately chosen the nearest broom closet to hide in until the heat died down.

"It sure is cramped in here." he heard George whisper.

"Well then how about you try getting your foot of mine?"

Through the few weak rays of light that filtered through the crack in the old door of the broom closet, Fred could see his brother roll his eyes. "Oh, well that's a brilliant come back! If we're trying to get comfortable, then how about getting your bloody elbow out of my ribcage?"

"You git! I wasn't supposed to be a come back!" his voice sounded angrier than Fred would have liked, but he didn't make an effort too calm it down. Although Fred was angry at his brother, he also felt a different, new kind of emotion--something that he had never felt before.

Though this feeling was new, it scared Fred all the same. He was so close to George that he could smell his aroma, and without realizing it, Fred inhaled deeply and shuddered from the pleasure of it all. George frowned.

"Fred what're you doing sniffing me like that?"

Fred let out a little gasp as his mind was pulled from its thoughts of his twin. _Of course I can't start thinking like that! For God's sakes he's my brother..._

"Suh-Sorry, George. I just thought that I smelled..." _Think quick! Anything! Say anything! _"...butterbeer."

Fred saw a skeptical look come over his twin's face. "Butterbeer? Really, Fred? Is that the best lie you can come up with?"

Fred glared at him in the darkness of the closet. He felt his face beginning to flush. "Yeah, butterbeer."

George laughed now, thinking that his brother absolutely had to be joking. "You think that I smell like butterbeer? Bloody hell, Fred, I thought mum told you to stay off drugs!"

Now his face was on fire; Fred could feel his face burning, blushing, and this embarrassed him more and made him turn redder. "Shut up. I was serious. I wasn't sniffing _you, _I was—"

"Well if it makes you feel better, I think that you smell like a dream, Fred darling." George mocked.

Fred said nothing as he felt his twin shift and turn around. "What're you—stop doing that! You're squishing me to the wall!"

"Sorry 'bout that, but it's just so _cramped!_"

"Well keep still then it won't be so bad!"

"Don't talk to me like that!" George protested. "You know that you love the feeling of my body pressed against yours, don't lie!" and he laughed madly at this, considering it a very good joke. Fred let out a hiss.

How could he actually admit that yes, he did like that? Surely George would laugh at him, thinking that this too was nothing but a jest, and seeing that his brother was serious he would become disgusted...

Fred just weakly chuckled. "Y-Yeah. Well maybe if you wouldn't try so hard to turn me on then—"

"Try? Oh, Fred love, I don't have to try. You already do all that for me!"

Both brothers began laughing hysterically, but gradually they quieted down and stared at each other in the near darkness. Fred swallowed, felt his face growing hot again as George stared at him. He tried to look away, but his brother's hand brushed his face gently, so that Fred was sure that he had imagined it.

"Don't do that." He heard George whisper so close to his ear. "Don't look away like that."

Fred felt a grin forming on his face. He closed his eyes tight and said quietly, "You're not mum; I don't have to listen to you."

"Don't make a joke of this." George insisted as one of his hands reached for his hand. Fred let his brother take a gentle hold of his hand, thinking all the while that it must be a dream. _This can't be happening...it's wrong, it's vile, it's...perfect?_

As if reading his mind, George whispered, "You know what? I actually don't mind being stuck in here no more. It's kind of nice."

_Nice enough to kiss me? _

Fred heard George chuckle, his breath warming his neck. "Yeah, totally."

Fred gasped and opened his eyes. "What?" had he really said that out loud? Suddenly a whole new rush of emotions came to him; he felt ashamed, confused, turned on, but, above all perhaps, wanting. He swallowed and repeated, "What did you just say?"

George just smiled at him, reached around, and pulled Fred closer to him, so that their bodies were pressed flatly against each other's. "You heard what I said, so don't play dumb." he grinned broadly and pressed his lips to his brother's. Fred let out a little whimper, utterly caught off guard by his brother's openness to his feelings, but he accepted the kiss.

George ended the kiss all to quickly and began snickering. Fred arched an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

He shook his head. "It's just that—oh, to hell with it—you taste like butterbeer!"

Once again they both laughed at this, but were soon kissing again, hungrily and desperately, knowing that as soon as they left the closet they would never get the chance again. It was an odd feeling, Fred noted, kissing his twin. In some twisted way it was almost like kissing himself, if that was possible, which he was fully sure that it wasn't, but he didn't think that deeply into it. It seemed to him like this wasn't a time for logical or rational thought.

George only stopped when he felt the door tremble from behind him. He broke free of Fred's embrace and gasped. "Ssh!" he whispered. Fred nodded and prayed that they hadn't been caught; it was too soon. There were still so many things for George and him to try, and for it to end so soon would be the worst kind of punishment, worse than any kind that Umbrige could administer.

The door opened, sending both Fred and George sprawling on the ground. Umbrige stood above them, her smile broad. "Detention!" she chimed before she walked away. At these words Fred's heart sank; the cuts on his hands were just beginning to heal from his _last _detention.

Once she was gone George got to his feet with a sigh and offered a hand to Fred. "Boy, that was sure luck! The Toad must be really stupid if she hasn't suspected us yet!"

Fred nodded and grinned. "Yeah." then he sniffed the air and grabbed George's shoulder. "Do you smell that?"

His twin sniffed the air and he met his brother's eyes. They said together, "Butterbeer!" and they both slapped each other on the shoulder, just like always, and they began to make their way downstairs to the Great Hall to perhaps get some breakfast before classes began.


End file.
